The genes inherited from my parents are quite good ones
Even though I was the eight child born to them
The combinations of two hardworking people
gave me a strong body and an active brain.
It made me read, but kept me firmly on the ground
My father, reading when he was not working
My mother caring for her kids in her own way
Loading the peat to earn the extra money
nursing her babies, feeding her many children.
Totally down to earth she was and had to be.
Earth-mother she, how often do I wonder
how she did manage to feed us in our youth?
Where did my father get the endless books?
Turning him into a philosopher, keeping the peace
in the midst of strong-willed children growing up.
His calloused hands were hard, that’s my experience
He did not spare the rod, which were his hands
He did not care for discussion with his offspring
He read, he ruled, he loved and was respected
His distant love took years to understand.